


Lost and Found

by IronWoman359



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fantasy AU, Gen, Knight Roman, M/M, Patton and Logan will show up eventually I promise, Prince Virgil, Royal Advisor Joan, allusions to Deceit character, allusions to panick attack, king thomas, negative "thoughts", the quotes will make sense later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-05-04 13:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14593788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronWoman359/pseuds/IronWoman359
Summary: There is a Castle that is said to house a great Treasure, capable of bringing joy to an entire kingdom. But all those who enter never come out again, save for one man who now lives as a broken shell of who he once was. One day, the young knight Roman vows to enter the Castle and retrieve the Treasure in the hopes that it will cure the sadness that hangs over his kingdom like a curse…but will he be able to withstand the Castle’s Whispers?





	1. Castle of Whispers

The legends say that the Castle just appeared one day, growing up out of the ground as though it were a tree.

The legends say that a great Treasure lies within the heart of the winding corridors and empty rooms, precious enough to bring joy to an entire kingdom.

The legends say that if you go into the Castle, you don’t come out again.

Many brave adventurers have tried, entering with swords drawn and confidence blooming. None of them have come back, save for one, and he was never the same again. Pale and shaking, he barely spoke, except for in his sleep.

The Castle whispered things to him, they say. Horrible things, that no man can bear to hear. They say he shouldn’t have survived. They say the Castle let him go, as a warning to the rest who would dare to try and lay claim to what it guarded. “Do not come here anymore, or a fate worse than this will befall you.” No one has tried to breach the Castle to claim it’s Treasure since.

Until now.

* * *

 

A lone knight stood before the Castle’s gate, steeling himself to enter. The townspeople nearby shook their heads when he rode through on his way, tutting about how “it’s such a shame” and “this one is so young.” “If only he would forget about glory then he might live a longer life.” It had been so long since someone had tried to breach the Castle’s walls, but the villagers were still used to it by this point. Anther foolish knight, lost to his own quest for fame.

How wrong they were.

This knight did not seek the treasure of the Castle for himself, as the villagers assumed, but for his king and his people. 

The king’s son was missing, and had been for many years. The stories say the young prince was deceived by a dark wizard and stolen away, and though all the knights in the land searched far and wide for him, he was never found. The king was heartbroken, as were his people, for the whole kingdom had adored their shy, soft spoken prince. The king withdrew, and a great sadness hung over the land; nothing was able to cure it.

The young knight who stood before the drawbridge had grown up on stories of the Lost Prince, and the sadness his disappearance had brought to the land. He longed to know what the kingdom was like before, when the king was happy and the people had hope. When he was older, he heard of a Castle in a nearby kingdom, a Castle that held a Treasure that brought great joy to many. The boy became a knight, wishing more than anything to retrieve it and bring it before the king, in hopes that some of the kingdom’s wounds may begin to heal.

The young knight steeled himself and entered the Castle, love for his people and his king giving him strength as he crossed the drawbridge and entered the front gate, trying not to imagine that the Castle swallowing him up.

As he roamed the corridors, thick tendrils of sickly yellow mist seeped out of the walls, swirling around his feet and creeping up along his shoulders.

_Another foolish little knight has come to meet his death._

The knight squared his shoulders and marched on. He had been expecting this. He knew that the Castle would whisper to him.

_You think you are strong enough when so many others have fallen before you? You are not strong. You are weak._

The young knight pressed on, determined not to succumb to the fear swirling in his stomach. They were just whispers, they were just lies. He could handle a few lies.

_Your father would be so ashamed if he could see you now._

The knight staggered.

_Your mother wishes you hadn’t been born._

He began to stumble as the mist grew thicker.

_Your friends won’t miss you if you die here._

The knight ran blindly through the corridors, trying to push away the whispers that cut into him, repeating his darkest fears.

_That’s it little knight, run away._

He stopped.

_You’ll never be a hero._

He remembered what the villagers said.

**“The deeper he went, the worse the whispers grew. They only eased when he found himself nearer to the entrance.”**

He realized what he had to do.

He pressed onwards. When the whispers grew worse, he continued. When they lessened, he turned back. Using the swiring voices as a guide, the knight pushed through, deeper and deeper into the Castle’s maze of Whispers. Eventually he came upon a heavy wooden door, the mist swarming all around him.

_You are a failure._

_You are wEak._

_YOu will DIe If youG o in therE._

_RUN litTLe HeRo bEfoRE yOu FaLL._

The knight ignored the voices. He knew that they only want to turn him away, that their only purpose was to keep people away from the center where the Treasure lay. He pushed open the door to find a cloud of mist so thick it formed a physical wall barring his entrance to the room. The knight drew his sword and swiped it through the mist, which shriveled away with a shrieking hiss that chilled him to his bone. 

When the mist cleared away, the whispers stopped, and he was shocked by what he saw.

The room was barren, save for a simple bed upon a pedestal. The knight cautiously approached, his sword still drawn. Laying on the bed, dressed in fine purple clothing, was a dark haired boy, somewhere around his own age. His face was pale and dark circles were stamped under his closed eyes, but his chest was rising and falling in a gentle, steady rhythm. Alive, then. 

As the knight approached, the boy’s eyes fluttered open, then widened when he saw someone with a drawn sword coming towards him. He panicked, shifting backwards, but the stranger quickly held up his free hand and took a step back. 

“Woah, woah, it’s okay.” The knight watched the boy glance between him and his drawn sword, then nodded and sheathed the weapon. “It’s okay,” he repeated. “You’re safe now.” 

“The whisp-the whispers…are the whispers…” the boy struggled to speak, and the knight could see that his shoulders were shaking. 

“They’re gone,” he assured him. “They’re gone.”

As he consoled the boy, who was now breathing heavily, his eyes darting around the room, the knight couldn’t help but be confused. This boy was the Treasure that could bring joy to an entire kingdom? This slightly scrawny, shifty eyed, dark haired, finely dressed,  _looks just like the paintings…_ the knight’s eyes widened. No…no, it couldn’t be. The boy was far too young, hadn’t the prince been missing before he himself had even been born? Then again, magically appearing castles and talking mist didn’t exactly fall into the realm of normalcy. 

“Y-you’re looking at me kind of funny,” the dark hair boy said, and the knight snapped out of his thoughts. Only one way to know for sure…

“Prince…Prince Virgil?” he asked, hardly daring to believe it.  

“Yes? What is it?” the boy asked, confusion etched across his face. The knight put his hand to his mouth, eyes wide with wonder. 

“Oh my God, it really is you.” 

“Y-yes?” Virgil stammered, leaning away from the quite possibly crazy knight in front of him. 

“OH, I’m sorry,” the knight said quickly, noticing the movement. “I’m just shocked is all…my goodness, are you alright? Can you move, can you stand?” 

“I…I’m okay, I think?” Virgil eased himself off the bed, staggering slightly as his feet hit the ground. The knight rushed forward to steady him, but backed away as Virgil flinched. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, putting his head down. 

“It’s fine, I just don’t…” Virgil sucked in a breath. “I don’t like people touching me suddenly is all.”

“I understand!” the knight said hurriedly. “It makes sense, especially after what you’ve been through…” 

“What I’ve been through? What are you talking about? What is going on? Who  _are_ you even?” the young prince asked, his voice rising as his heart began to race. 

“Oh! I’m sorry,” the knight exclaimed, mortified that he’d forgotten all rules of etiquette. He bowed deeply to the prince. “I am Sir Roman of Sanderwood, and I am at your service, your highness.” 

“You’re from Sanderwood?” the Prince sounded surprised. “Not a lot of knights come from there.” 

Roman glanced up, and at Virgil’s small nod, he straightened. 

“I’m the first we’ve had in a few decades,” he agreed. “The last was Sir Terrance the Good, and he retired when I was a kid.” 

Virgil frowned. 

“Sir Terrance is retired? Wait, a few  _decades?_  What…what are you…” he trailed off, and looked around the empty room. It suddenly struck Roman how  _small_ the prince seemed, how unsure of everything around him. Certainly not at all what he had always envisioned royalty to look like. “How…how long have I been…away?” 

Roman frowned, casting his mind back and doing some quick math. 

“I think…just over thirty years?” 

It was Virgil’s turn to cover his mouth in shock, and he swayed slightly as the implications of Roman’s words swept over him. The knight rushed forward, catching the prince just in time and easing him to the floor. The two sat side by side, their backs against the pedestal, Roman pretending he didn’t notice how much the prince was trying to hold back tears. 

“My, my father, is he…” Virgil spoke, his voice thin. 

“He’s alive!” Roman said quickly, giving him an encouraging smile. “Alive and…well, he’s alive.” Virgil didn’t miss Roman’s tone, nor his hesitation, and he sat up, staring at the knight. 

“And what? What is it?” Roman hesitated again, and Virgil glared at him. “Roman, I’m ordering you. Tell me.” Roman sighed, and leaned his head back on the pedestal. 

“He…was never really the same, after you disappeared. He withdrew…he hasn’t made a public appearance more than a handful of times in the last thirty years…some of the men in the village say he’s weak, but mamma says he’s heartbroken.” Roman paused, and glanced at Virgil. “She says the whole kingdom’s heartbroken.” 

The prince looked at him, his eyes pooling with tears. 

“W-why?” 

Roman shrugged. 

“We’ve missed you,” he said simply. Virgil choked out a laugh, but there was no humor in the sound. 

“I-I didn’t think anyone would care…h-he told me…told me that I….” he stopped and looked away, wrapping his arms around himself. Roman hesitated, then wrapped his arm around the prince’s shoulders. Virgil tensed beneath the contact for a moment, but then relaxed into the touch. 

“They say you were deceived by a dark wizard,” Roman said quietly. “Is that…” 

Virgil just nodded, and wiped at his eyes. 

“H-he…he made me believe, believe things…about myself, about my f-father, about the kingdom…he had me convinced it would be better to just run away…he said, said he could protect me, b-but then he b-brought me h-h-here, and there were so many  _voices,_  and they wouldn’t  _stop, they never **stopped…**_ ” Virgil’s breathing grew ragged as he clenched his fists, burying his face in his hands. Roman rubbed his back, trying to be soothing. 

“Hey, come on man. Breathe, okay? Breathe with me.” Roman took in a deep breath, and Virgil tried to do the same. Roman held it for a moment, then let it out slowly. The two sat in silence, focused on their breathing, and eventually Virgil’s fists slowly unclenched. He peeked over at Roman, who smiled at him. 

“Hey, there he is.” 

Virgil laughed again, a real laugh this time and he gave Roman a shaky smile. 

“Th-thanks…” 

“But of course, my prince,” Roman said, putting on a pompous voice, making Virgil laugh again, a laugh that Roman couldn’t help but find cute. It was a low, hoarse chuckle, and it sounded as though it was very out of use. Roman supposed it was, if the prince had been trapped here for thirty years. 

Suddenly, Roman wanted nothing more than to leave the Castle and never set foot inside it again. He stood slowly, and offered his hand down to Virgil, who hesitated only a moment before allowing the knight to pull him to his feet. 

“What do you say, your highness? Are you ready to go home?” 

Virgil looked around the room, and Roman didn’t miss the slight shudder that passed through the prince’s body before he nodded. 

“Yes.” His voice was shaky, but a fierce determination was gleaming in his eyes, and Roman smiled again. 

“Then let’s get out of here.” 

* * *

Words travel faster than people, especially when people’s horses seem to have run off while people have been roaming in cursed castles, so by the time Sir Roman of Sanderwood and Prince Virgil reached the border of their kingdom, a royal procession was already waiting for them. Roman nodded to several of the soldiers that he recognized, then bowed before the king’s royal advisor, who according to the stories, was also his best friend. 

“My god…” the advisor stared, dumbstruck at Virgil. “It really is you…” 

“Joan?” Virgil asked, staring back in equal shock. His father’s friend’s once black hair was streaked with gray, and permanent worry lines creased their once smooth brow. Joan smiled, and VIrgil noted that at least the way that their whole face lit up with a grin hadn’t changed over the years that he had missed. 

“I got old, Virgil,” the advisor said, seeing the way Virgil scanned their face. “It’s been thirty years, after all.” 

“I know…I’m sorry,” Virgil whispered, looking down with tears in his eyes. Joan pulled the prince into a hug, a few tears of their own threatening to spill over. 

“No no Virgil, it’s alright. Nobody blames you, it wasn’t your fault.” 

The two stayed locked in their embrace, and Roman was struck by how vulnerable Joan seemed. In the few instances he’d seen the advisor in action, they had always been so confident, even in the face of tragedy or disaster, they stayed cool and focused. But now…Roman took in their tearful face and relaxed posture as the two broke apart at last. He supposed that the king wasn’t the only one who had deeply missed Virgil. 

“Sir Roman of Sanderwood?” they were saying, snapping Roman out of his thoughts. 

“Yes, my liege?” Roman asked, bowing again. 

“You of course have the kingdom’s thanks, and the thanks of the king, but let me extend to you my personal gratitude as well. Thank you for returning our prince to us.” 

Roman blushed and bowed deeper. 

“Thank you, my liege.” 

“Now come! You two must be exhausted, as I see you have no horses. There are carriages waiting; we should be at the capital by midday tomorrow.” 

Roman and Virgil gratefully followed the advisor to the carriage, Roman nudging Virgil slightly as they walked. 

“Were the two of you close?” he asked quietly, nodding towards Joan who was speaking with the captain of the squadron of soldiers who had accompanied the party. Virgil nodded. 

“After…after my mother died, Joan was always there, for both me and my father. They were his best friend, and like a second parent to me. When…when I went with  _him_ , Joan was the only person besides my father who I thought might miss me.” He smiled slightly to himself. “I guess they did.” 

“Of course they did! Virgil, I told you already,  _everyone_  missed you.” 

Virgil’s smile grew, just a little bit. 

“Thanks, Roman,” he said quietly. 

Roman nodded as the two climbed into the carriage after Joan. Virgil yawned, and Roman smiled softly at him. 

“Tired?” he asked. Virgil nodded, and Roman patted his lap. Virgil lay down on his side, using Roman’s leg as a pillow and closed his eyes. Roman then lay one arm protectively over the prince’s shoulders and drew his sword with the other. 

“Whoa,” Joan, who was sitting on the seat across from the pair, leaned back in surprise. “Sir Roman, what are you doing?” 

“Apologies, my liege,” Roman said, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. How was he going to explain this? That Virgil hadn’t been able to sleep at all their first night of travel, terrified that once he closed his eyes the voices would come back, whispering their lies? That he’d only closed his eyes once Roman had promised to stay awake all night, sword drawn and ready to fight them off? That Roman really  _had_ stayed awake all night that time, but had been so exhausted that he’d almost collapsed on the path the next day? That since then, they’d developed a ritual of sorts, that began with Virgil falling asleep under Roman’s watchful eye, and ended with Roman, once he was satisfied that Virgil was sleeping soundly and that no mists were coming after them, falling asleep with one hand still on his sword, just in case? 

Before Roman could figure out how to voice any of that, Virgil mumbled an answer for him. 

“S’okay, Joan. He’s keeping me safe.” His words were bleary and slurred, and Roman guessed that he was half asleep already. He smiled sheepishly up at the royal advisor, who smiled back, nodding in understanding. It wasn’t long before Roman too began to yawn, and leaned his head back against the cushion on the seat, closing his own eyes, being lulled to sleep by Virgil’s steady breathing. 

When he opened his eyes again, Joan was shaking his shoulder gently. 

“Sir Roman? Sir Roman, wake up. We’ve arrived.” 

Roman yawned, then quickly looked down at Virgil. He was stirring slightly in Roman’s lap, but if there was one thing he’d learned over their days of travel, it was that the prince was not quick to rise. Joan chuckled. 

“I see some things have not changed. Let the prince take his time to awaken, I must speak with the king for a moment.” They ducked out of the carriage, blinding sunlight streaming through for the brief moments that the door was open. 

Roman maneuvered himself out from under Virgil and stretched out his leg which had gone slightly numb after serving as a royal pillow for most of the journey. 

“Mmm??” Virgil mumbled groggily, blinking his eyes open. 

“We’re here,” Roman said softly, and in an instant Virgil was sitting up his eyes wide. 

“R-really?” he asked, and Roman might have laughed at the sudden change in demeanor if the prince didn’t look so frightened. Roman nodded. 

“Joan is out talking to your father right now. I think the carriage has stopped in the castle courtyard.” Roman felt his pulse quicken as he realized that he was moments away from being face to face with the king. He was used to dealing with nobility, as a knight, but he wasn’t an important enough knight to deal with royalty directly. Sure, he’d spent almost a week with Virgil, but that was different somehow. Despite their differences in rank, not to mention personality, the friendship between himself and the prince had grown strong quickly. Virgil himself had expressed distaste with being treated with the proper formalities while the two of them trudged through the countryside in the summer heat, so Roman hadn’t bothered. But this…

He heard Virgil’s breath catch, and the sound pulled him from his own musings. God, if  _he_ was nervous, how must Virgil be feeling? 

“You ok?” he asked gently, and Virgil nodded, taking in slow, shaky breaths. 

“Y-yeah. I’m okay. I’m okay, I’m okay…” Roman placed a comforting hand on the princes shoulder, and received a small smile in return. 

“Everything’ll be fine, Virgil, I promise.” Virgil just nodded, not trusting himself to speak again, lest tears start falling. 

A knock came at the carriage door, and Joan cracked it open slightly, poking their head in. 

“Sir Roman? Prince Virgil? Are you ready?” 

Roman looked to Virgil, silently echoing the advisor’s question. Virgil took a deep breath and nodded. 

“I am,” he said, his voice barely audible. Joan smiled an encouraging smile, then turned back, opening the carriage door further. 

“Ladies, Lords, and Non-Binary Nobility of the court! I present to you the long lost son of the king and heir to the throne, Prince Virgil of Sorsia !” 

Roman gave Virgil’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then scooted back to allow him room to exit the carriage. Virgil took one last deep breath, then stepped out into the bright sunlight. 


	2. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prince has returned and the kingdom of Sorsia prepares to celebrate! But even as the King and his son are reunited and everything seems good again, something unseen lurks in the shadows.

“Ladies, Lords, and Non-Binary Nobility of the court! I present to you the long lost son of the king and heir to the throne, Prince Virgil of Sorsia!”

Joan’s voice echoed in Virgil’s head, then Roman’s hand squeezed his shoulder, and the door was open. Sunlight shone directly in his eyes, making him squint, and he stumbled from the carriage with a little less grace than was befitting a prince. He tried to steady himself, but his head was spinning. People were clapping and cheering at the sight of him, their voices coming from every direction and crowding his thoughts, and the sun was so  _bright_ , glinting off of the crowns and jewelry worn by the crowd of nobles that were gathered in the courtyard and blinding him. His heart hammered against his ribcage and he tried to remember how to breathe, but it was no use, he  _couldn’t_  remember, oh god, he was going to faint, fall down right here in front of all these people—

“Virgil?”

Virgil looked up, and when he met the eyes of the man who had spoken, everything else seemed to disappear around him. The man almost was a stranger to the prince. His hair beneath the royal crown was gray, and his face was wrinkled and hardened with age. The voice that said his name was hoarse, not the rich, smooth tone that Virgil had known it to be. But the eyes…warm and brown and full of hope as they stared at Virgil as though he were the only thing in the whole universe that mattered…they were the same eyes that Virgil had always known.

“Father?”

The King’s hand flew up to his mouth, his eyes pooling with tears. Virgil’s feet carried him forward before his brain even had time to register that he was moving, and the King mirrored his movement, the two of them crashing into each other in a rather undignified hug.

But at that precise moment, the King didn’t care about formalities and Virgil didn’t care about the people watching. The only thing that mattered in that moment was each other.

Father and son were reunited.

* * *

Roman heard Joan announce the prince, heard the crowd cheer, heard the low voice full of disbelief and hope carry Virgil’s name over the rest of the noise. He peered through the now ajar carriage door to see Virgil and the King embracing one another to the cheers of the court. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but before he had time to appreciate the moment further, a footman was pulling the carriage door open wide again and Joan was beckoning for him to step out. Roman did so, suddenly keenly aware that many pairs of eyes were turning away from the heartfelt reunion and towards him. He stood up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders and trying to look as dignified as possible.

“King Thomas,” Joan said, and Roman felt his stomach jolt when the King turned his head to look at  _him_ , one arm still wrapped protectively around Virgil’s shoulders.

“May I present Sir Roman of Sanderwood, the knight who is responsible for Prince Virgil’s safe return.”

Roman bent down on one knee and knelt before the King as he had been taught.

“I am in your service, Your Majesty,” he recited, keeping his eyes down.

“You may rise, Sir Roman,” the King said, and when he did, Roman saw a grateful smile on the old man’s face. “You have my most heartfelt thanks,” he continued, “for bringing my son home to me.” He looked over at Virgil, love shining in his eyes. Turning back to Roman, his smile grew solemn. “You have brought this kingdom hope again,” he said, nodding his head in respect. “And we are in your debt.”

Roman bowed his head again, though his heart was pounding in his chest.

“Your majesty, to serve the kingdom has been my only wish.”

“You have done very well,” King Thomas said with another smile. “Now come! We must prepare,” he continued, projecting his voice outward to be heard in the crowd. “Tonight there shall be a banquet to celebrate the return of my son, Prince Virgil, and his rescuer Sir Roman of Sanderwood!”

Roman felt a rush of pride as the crowd cheered again. He lifted his head, and caught Virgil’s eye as he did so. The prince raised an eyebrow at him, a teasing grin playing on his lips. Roman made a face back, which made Virgil giggle, but then his expression softened.

“Thank you,” he mouthed, and Roman’s smirk turned into a smile. He nodded back, smiling wider at the sight of Virgil still tucked beneath the King’s arm, neither of them making any effort to let go, even as they began heading towards the castle gates. A hand lightly touched his shoulder, pulling his attention away from the reunited prince and king.

“Follow me, Sir Roman,” Joan said, sporting a smile of their own as they began to walk after Thomas and Virgil.

“Wait, into the castle?” Roman asked, surprised. Joan laughed, their eyes twinkling.

“Yes Sir Roman, into the castle.”

Roman followed, unable to keep an excited grin from his face as they left the gathering of nobles outside and, for the first time in his life, he walked beyond the outer courtyard and through the gates into the palace.

Thomas led the way, his arm still around Virgil as they walked. Joan followed behind them, with Roman bringing up the rear, craning his neck as he went, trying to take in every detail of the castle as they walked through.

The ceilings stretched high above them, delicate carvings leafed in gold decorating the pillars and arches that reached up overhead. Light streamed through large windows framed by crimson velvet curtains, glinting off the sconces on the walls and the decorative suits of armor that were dotted around the corridors. Elaborately patterned mosaics covered the ceilings, and Roman marveled at the sensation of the lush red carpet beneath his feet.

Eventually, the King paused in front of a door, and he turned to Virgil and Roman.

“The two of you must be hungry, after your journey.”

Virgil’s stomach growled audibly at the mention of food, and Roman fought back a snicker at the sound. Virgil sneered at him, but a light blush dusted his pale cheeks as Joan chuckled and Thomas ruffled his hair fondly.

“Are the sweet rolls with honey still your favorite?” Joan asked, and Virgil’s blush deepened, even as he nodded yes. “Very well, I shall inform the kitchens…and leave you alone for a moment.”

Joan turned to leave, but before they did, Thomas reached out and put a hand on their shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “for bringing him home.”

The King and the Advisor stood frozen for a moment, looking into one another’s eyes, and Roman again remembered the stories he’d heard around the guard about the pair’s friendship—that they’d known each other since childhood, and were as close as siblings.  He’d never really believed it, maybe because it was hard to imagine the King as a person who’d had an actual childhood same as anyone else, but now as the two seemingly held a conversation with just their eyes, he considered that even a king could have a best friend.

Joan nodded, breaking the spell, and turned back down the corridor that they had come, leaving Roman alone with the Sovereign King of Sorsia and the Heir to the Throne. He all at once felt very exposed, and he shuffled from foot to foot, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do.

His unspoken question was answered when Thomas pushed open the door before them and…gestured for  _Roman_  to go in first. Roman tried to stutter out a protest, there were protocols, there were rules he was meant to follow, but Virgil shook his head at him.

“This is the private tea room,” he explained, giving Roman a small smile.

“This is the one place in the castle where ranks and roles and procedures don’t matter,” the King continued upon seeing the confusion on Roman’s face. “Here, we are all just people. And I thought that an informal setting like this might be a good place for us to…talk about everything.” He gestured for Roman to step in again, and after another moment of hesitation, Roman complied, Virgil and his father following him in.   

The room was small compared to others that Roman had glimpsed on their way through the castle, but was still larger than many of the homes in Sanderwood. It was cozily furnished, with plush looking sofas piled high with pillows, and a low-set table decorated with a simple floral centerpiece. A lit fireplace against one wall filled the air with a pleasant, smoky pine smell and a gentle crackling, making the space feel safe and welcoming.

Roman became keenly aware as he observed the luxury of the room that he had been wearing the same outfit, his knight’s tunic with light armor, for  _several_  days now. He was a mess, and he probably smelled about as good as he looked. He glanced down at the furniture, unsure of himself, but Virgil moved past him, unceremoniously plopping down into a sofa and hugging a purple pillow to his chest. Roman raised an eyebrow at him, and Virgil rolled his eyes in response. Roman grinned, and sat in an armchair, enjoying their wordless banter. Despite the earlier words about rank not mattering, Roman couldn’t help but sit up a little straighter as Thomas sat down on the same sofa as Virgil, letting out a soft sigh.

“So, now that we’re here…” he began, and Roman was shocked at the difference in his voice. Out in front of the crowd, his voice had been bright and forceful, projecting easily over the murmurings of the assembly of nobles. But now, as he leaned back on the sofa and stared at Virgil with an expression that fell somewhere between utter wonder and total confusion, he sounded less like a King, and more like a tired grandfather who hadn’t had peace and quiet in a long time.

“Can you…explain what happened?” he asked, and Roman wasn’t sure if  _he_  was being addressed, or if the question was meant for Virgil. He turned to the prince, but Virgil had his head turned away, his gaze on the ground.

“Virgil, please,” Thomas tried again after a beat of silence. “It…it’s been almost  _thirty years._  And look at you…you haven’t changed a bit. You look the same as the day I lost you…” His breath caught in his throat, and a tear slipped down his cheek. “I-I thought you were  _gone_  Virgil, I thought…I thought that you…what  _happened?_ ”

Roman looked away, unable to shake the feeling that he shouldn’t  _be_  here, this was a private moment for them, why was he, a low level knight here in the private room of the highest in the land?

“I don’t know,” Virgil’s quiet voice interrupted Roman’s thoughts. “I…I started having dreams…nightmares, and in them there was this…voice…” Virgil drew the pillow he was clutching closer to his chest. “It would…whisper things to me.”

Roman shuddered, remembering the cold voice that had surrounded him back in the castle where he had found Virgil. Pushing his way through those mists had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done, and it had just been for one day. He couldn’t imagine what Virgil’s nightmares had been like, night after night for thirty long years.

“It…it convinced me that you’d all…be better off without me. That I was just a burden, and the kingdom didn’t need me. That it’d be better if I just disappeared. Then a man started appearing in them. He said…he said he could help me. That I could run away and that it would make everyone happier and…I don’t know why, but…I listened.”

Tears welled in Virgil’s eyes, and he squeezed them shut as his shoulders started to shake.

“I thought that the dreams would stop if I left, but…the night he came for me…he h-held out his hand and w-when I, when I took it I—” Virgil’s hand flew to his mouth as he choked back a sob. Roman’s mind went back to the first words Virgil had struggled to speak when he’d woken up back in that cursed castle.

_“The whisp—the whispers…are the whispers…?”_

Roman reached across the space between them and found Virgil’s hand, clutching it tightly. Virgil met his eyes and Roman nodded back, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Thomas looked like his heart might break, but he leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on Virgil’s shoulder.

“Virgil. It’s alright, you can tell me. What happened when you took his hand?”

“I…I don’t know,” Virgil muttered, wiping at his eyes. “That’s the last thing I remember. Everything went blurry, and then we were in some  _room_  and the voices, they…they didn’t stop. They just got worse and worse, they were all I could hear, all around me and I couldn’t move, and—” Virgil drew his knees up to his chest and buried his head in his arms.

Thomas and Roman moved at the same time, Thomas pulling Virgil closer into a hug as Roman slipped off his chair and knelt in front of Virgil, placing a hand on his knee and tapping a steady rhythm.

“C’mon, man,” he said quietly as Virgil let out a shaky breath. “We’re right here. Breathe. That’s it, there you go.” Roman kept his beat steady, and Thomas shot him a grateful look over Virgil’s head as he ran a hand gently through his hair. Roman blinked in surprise, but nodded back, the surrealism of what was happening still a thought in the back of his mind as he and Thomas helped calm Virgil down.

“S-sorry,” Virgil muttered once his breathing was back under control.

“Don’t be,” Roman and Thomas said in unison, and Virgil cracked a small smile at the beet-red blush that spread across Roman’s cheeks.

“You’re safe now, Virgil,” Thomas added, rubbing Virgil’s shoulder. “Those…voices, whatever they were, they were wrong. You are  _not_  a burden, and we were  _not_  better of without you. We missed you so much, Virgil,  _I_  missed you…when I heard you’d been found…” he took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. “I almost didn’t dare to believe it was true…I’d wished for so long that we’d find you, but with each passing year…” Thomas stared off into space for a moment, before sighing, and looking down at Virgil with a tired smile. “Well, let’s just say I hardly dared to hope anymore. But now, you’re really  _here_ , and that’s all that matters for today.”

Virgil just nodded, and buried his face in his father’s chest.

“Roman?” Thomas asked, and Roman eyes snapped up to meet the King’s. “Now that we’ve heard Virgil’s half of the story, would you mind telling yours? How did you find him?’

Roman glanced at Virgil, and Virgil gave a small nod. Roman nodded back, and stood up, then settled back into the chair he’d been in a moment before.

“Well…it’s a bit of a long story,” he began.

He told them about the legend of the Castle of Whispers, and how he’d hoped that the Treasure that was said to lie within would be enough to restore the broken heart of the kingdom. He told them about his journey out of Sorsia into the neighboring kingdom, where the castle was said to lie. He told them about finding the village that sat beneath the castle’s shadow, and the stories that they told of the one man who’d survived, and the dozens who had presumably perished. He told them about breaching the castle, about hearing the voices, and about finding Virgil seemingly asleep in a chamber in the center of the castle.

“I had no idea that the “Treasure” would be him,” Roman admitted. “No one really knew what it was. I just hoped that, whatever it was, it would be able to help us somehow.”

“Well if you ask me, the legends greatly understated the “Treasure’s” value,” Thomas said, and Virgil blushed. “I thank you again, Roman, for everything you’ve done.”

“I did my duty,” Roman said, bowing his head. “Any knight of your order would have done the same.”

“Perhaps,” Thomas agreed, “But  _you_  did, and that is what we will celebrate tonight.”

“Tonight?” Roman asked as Virgil groaned.

“Do we  _have_  to have a banquet?” he asked, and Thomas ruffled his hair fondly.

“I know your distaste for social gatherings, but your return is quite literally the greatest thing that’s ever happened to this kingdom in our lifetime. I’m sure word has spread already to the whole capital and is moving beyond. They’ll be having celebrations all over the city; the court will be expecting one here as well.”

Virgil groaned, and Roman chuckled.

“Laugh now,” Virgil grumbled at him. “We’ll see if you’re still laughing after having to deal with pleasantries and noble niceties for hours at a time. They’re exhausting on the best of days.”

“Well, fortunately for you this time, you have an easy excuse to limit your actual social interaction for most of the night,” Thomas said with a twinkle in his eye.

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked, squinting up at Thomas.  

“Well, it’s not exactly a secret that you’ve just been through quite the ordeal. I’ll make it known to the court that, out of respect for your privacy and health, you’ll be remaining at the high table for the duration of the night, and if you  _do_  make the decision to mingle, that they should approach respectfully, and one at a time. Does that sound agreeable?” Thomas asked, and a smile worked its way onto Virgil’s face.

“Yeah…yeah, that could be okay,” he admitted, and Thomas ruffled his hair again.

“Good,” he said, then added “Enter!” when a knock came at the door. “Ah, perfect,” he said as a maid slipped into the room with a tray of tea and sweet rolls. “If you would please have baths drawn up for the Prince in his room and for Sir Roman in one of the guest chambers? And send someone out to the knight’s barracks to fetch his formal uniform.”

The girl nodded before setting the tray on the table. She bowed to Thomas, then to Virgil, and nodded to Roman before exiting the room. Virgil sat up, grabbed one of the rolls, and took a huge bite, a look of contentment washing over him as he chewed.

“The two of you will have ample time to get yourselves cleaned up and rest before the evening’s festivities,” Thomas said, rising to his feet. “Stay here for awhile if you like; when your baths are ready the maid will come and fetch you.”

“You’re leaving?” Virgil asked, his eyes wide, and Thomas placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder.

“If I had my way, I wouldn’t let you out of my arms again for the rest of my life,” he said gently. “But there is still much work I have to do, especially since you’ve now returned. And I don’t wish to hover as I know how it makes you nervous.”

Virgil shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face.

“I’ll see you soon,” Thomas said, kissing the top of Virgil’s head before pulling him into another hug. Roman shifted his weight and focused his attention on the tea tray in front of him, taking a roll in his hands and pinching off a piece of it.

Eventually, Thomas stood, and after lingering with his hand on Virgil’s shoulder for a moment longer, he smiled, nodded to Roman, then turned and walked back out into the palace corridors.

Virgil watched him go for a moment, then turned to face Roman and smirked at him.

“You can stop tearing that poor, innocent sweet roll to pieces now, Roman.”

Roman looked down at his hands, and saw that yes, the once intact pastry was in several bits in his hands.

“You may be used to talking to your father casually,” he argued, raising an eyebrow at Virgil’s smirk. “But me? I’ve only seen the King in person once, and he was on a balcony overlooking the knighthood ceremony, which took place in the outer courtyard. He never came down to our level.”

Virgil frowned, and swallowed the bit of sweet roll he’d been eating.

“He didn’t perform the ceremony himself?”

Roman shook his head.

“He hasn’t performed a knighthood ceremony himself in my lifetime…Joan is the one who actually knights us these days. One of the older knights in my division said the King stopped when…” Roman trailed off, looking down at his shoes.

“When I disappeared?” Virgil finished for him, and Roman nodded.

“Sorry…I don’t wanna upset you, I just—”

“No, it’s okay,” Virgil said, tugging at his sleeve. “I better get used to it, right? I mean, I’m gonna be hearing it a lot for awhile now.”

Roman frowned, the slowly got up and eased his way onto the couch next to Virgil, making sure there was a little bit of space between them in case Virgil didn’t want the attention.

“Hey…are you gonna be okay?” he asked in a low voice. Virgil was silent for a moment, and Roman hesitated. Maybe he’d said the wrong thing, maybe he shouldn’t have asked—

“I…I don’t know,” Virgil whispered. “It feels like…like there’s cobwebs in my brain. Everything is fuzzy and if I think about it too hard I start to get a headache. But if I  _don’t_  think about it then the fuzz gets worse, and I just…” Virgil shrugged, and tugged on his sleeves more, covering up his hands. “I don’t know,” he said again. “I…I don’t know, I don’t know if I’m okay, and I don’t  _like_  that I…that I don’t  _know_ , I should  _know_  but I don’t and it just…it feels  _wrong_.”

Roman hesitated, then scooted closer to the prince, closing the gap between them.

“Hey,” he said gently. “You know it’s  _okay_ to not be okay, right?”

Virgil shrugged, and Roman placed a hand on his knee, causing him to finally look up.

“I mean it. It’s okay to not be okay, to not be sure, all of it. No one would blame you, after what you’ve been through. And if someone does, they’ll have me to deal with.”

Virgil laughed, and knocked their shoulders together.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I mean it,” Roman said in the most serious a voice he could muster while fighting back a laugh of his own. “I’m a trained soldier and knight of the King’s Order, and if anyone says you can’t be not-okay, they’re gonna catCH MY SWORD.” He stood up and drew his sword for emphasis, striking a ridiculous fighting pose against an invisible enemy.

Virgil laughed again, and the sound made Roman’s heart feel a little lighter. He swung the sword playfully a few times at the imagined threat, then made a show of “stabbing” the floor and raising his free arm up in victory.

“The foe is vanquished!” he cried, turning towards Virgil just in time for a sweet roll to hit him square in the face. Roman made a sputtering sound, stepping back in surprise, and Virgil laughed harder, clutching his sides and leaning back on the couch.

“Your face, oh my god,” he said, wiping his eyes. Roman pouted, and folded his arms.

“That’s it, your rescuing privileges have been revoked.”

“Well, you already saved me once,” Virgil pointed out. “I guess that’s my allotted rescue, then. Whatever am I going to do if I need another one?”

“Roman chuckled, and plopped back down on the couch.

“Virgil, you have my word,” he said, a grin splitting his face. “As long as you  _never_  throw a sweet roll at my face ever again, I will rescue you as many times as you need.”

Virgil grinned back.

“Well, here’s hoping that I never  _need_  rescuing again,” he said, then he brought his hand out from behind his back and threw another roll.

* * *

Far away from the cozy tea room, a tall man in a dark cloak stood watching the prince and the knight through an enchanted mirror, grimacing as the prince laughed at the utterly betrayed look on the knight’s face after being struck with a second edible missile. This foolish little hero was something he had not counted on; never in all his scheming had he expected anybody, let alone someone barely more than a child, to retrieve the prince before he was ready. Well, this was the price he paid for his arrogance. His plan was majorly delayed now, possibly ruined completely. The prince’s premature return to the castle was a major setback in his grand design…but perhaps it could be worked in his favor yet.

He murmured a spell, and grinned when through his stolen view, he saw the young prince flinch and shrink in on himself. Despite the setbacks he had suffered, he still had seeds planted in his subject’s mind, and those could be watered to suit his needs quite nicely. He chuckled to himself as the boy looked around the tea room, eyes wide with fear.  

_“You should have stayed in your slumber, little prince.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAaaah, so happy to finally have this up! I started this chapter ages ago, in like, late May, early June, but I got distracted before finishing it, and then I ended up writing chapter five of Our Own Villain instead of finishing this, and then I wrote A Sanders Carol for the big bang, and then I updated Fear of Falling and started Tooth and Claw…My point is I have too many WIPs and I can never decide which ones to update, haha. But thank you all for sticking with me anyway and reading what I write, I really appreciate it! More of this fic will be coming, as well as more Tooth and Claw, and Our Own Villain, Of Dusk and Dawn, everything will be updated slowly but surely! Thank you all again for your patience and for all your lovely feedback. Reading what you guys put in the comments and tags makes my day, so thank you!   
> -Taylor <3


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